A Very Weasley Wedding
by Rani Jashalithie
Summary: After knowing Ron and Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys, do you really think their wedding day will go as planned?


For a while now, Ron thought his hair was turning brown. He wasn't sure how to feel about this, but it kept turning a shade darker every day. It was a trivial matter, and not one to harp about.

George kept teasing him that Hermione was rubbing off on him (in more ways than one) and swore that Hermione's hair was getting more ginger with every passing day.

On his wedding day, Ron woke up grudgingly and took a shower half-asleep, like he did every day. Hermione had snuck in, and as soon as he was out, she hopped inside the steaming shower.

The couple headed down separately to breakfast, and greeted the other members of the family (both related and otherwise).

Ron had not yet polished off his scrambled eggs, and Hermione had barely finished her tea when Mrs. Weasley gave a frightened little shriek and accidentally spilled coffee all over George.

"Merlin's beard, Ronnie! What's happened to your hair? And Hermione dear, you-"

All the occupants of the table turned to the people in question, and were rightfully astonished.

Ron was sporting a shiny chestnut brown haircut, and Hermione had a long, straight, tomato-red ponytail.

"Ron-"

"Hermione-"

"-George-"

"-hair color-"

"-change-"

"George! You did this! Turn it back, you nosy bugger!" Ron shouted over the rest of the din.

"Can't, Ronnie-boy. Lasts for a full twelve hours."

"So you admit you did this." Hermione said, pointing her knife threateningly at George.

" 'Course I did, soon-to-be sister-in-law."

Mrs. Weasley slapped him upside the head, followed by Hermione, Fleur, Audrey, and an irritated, pregnant Ginny, who was not paying attention as to why she was slapping her brother but did it anyway.

The momentary crisis was interrupted by a very loud shriek coming from outside, where Harry was desperately trying to feed all the kids breakfast.

"Ted, please change it back! Uncle Ron's ring bearer has to look like a kid, not like something off Charlie's reserve! Victoire, love, please put on some shoes! No! Molly, we do _not_ draw on the table, thank you! Lucy, dear, let's leave the cat alone, okay?"

Ginny approached the crazy hustle, put two fingers in her mouth, and whistled loudly.

"Oi kids! Ted, change your skin back. Harry's right, we can't have you looking like a baby Welsh green. Victoire dear, you _do_ have to wear shoes. Your new ones are inside. Molly, keep the drawing on paper only, and Lucy dear, the gnomes annoy the cat too much as it is. Harry, do you know where my shoes are? My feet are killing me."

"Thank you, and no, I don't. Sorry." He guided Ginny inside, stepping over the strewn toys.

"Zose will 'ave to go." Fleur decided, waving her wand so a stream of toys followed the two inside.

"Harry, do you have the ring?" Ron whispered to him urgently. Harry nodded, not really paying attention to the speaker.

A few minutes later, while preventing Dominique from eating the flower arrangements, he absentmindedly patted his pocket and discovered that the ring was, in fact, not there. Trying to quell his panic, and desperately hoping Ron didn't absorb any of the extremely painful crippling curses that were taught to them during Auror training, he retraced his steps in what he hoped was a nonchalant way.

He walked past the fathers of the betrothed, who were merrily chatting about Quidditch, soccer, conventional ovens, Floo networks, and whatnot.

Mrs. Weasley was baking the cake with Fleur, who was strutting around, brushing the absolute minimum amount of flour on her fingertips, and Audrey was in a bowl of icing elbow-deep.

Just then, there was a ring in the fireplace, and an automated message system in a shrill voice: "Madam Maulkin's dress robe delivery!"

Hermione shot up and ran to it. "Our dresses are here!" She waved her wand to allow access to the delivery person.

A young boy, about eighteen, and bearing a remarkable resemblance to Stan Shunpike, jug ears and all, stumbled out, holding about ten heavy garment bags.

" 'Ere it is, m'am, and that's twelve Galleons and four Sickles, and not a Knut under."

"Yes, yes, all right!" Hermione said in an irritated voice, rummaging around for her purse. She paid him and practically pushed him into the fireplace.

After the annoying bloke left, she unzipped the topmost garment bag and pulled out a frilly cream-colored dress. She stared at it, blinked, and checked the tag on it. She stared at it some more and blinked some more.

And then she screamed bloody murder.

Frantically, Ron rushed to her side. "What? What is it? Is it too big? Too long? Too ugly? Never mind, forget I said that. Are you hurt? Is someone else hurt? Is-"

"Oh, shut _up_, Ron." Ginny came waddling in through the door and her relaxed attitude vanished the minute she saw the dress. "Is that-MY DRESS? WHAT DID THEY DO WITH MY DRESS?"

Hermione mutely nodded, then shook her head. She tossed all of the garment bags in Ron's general direction, and he lunged to catch them. Hermione rapidly unzipped the topmost two bags and pulled out the dresses.

They were HIDEOUS. Even Ron wrinkled his face when he saw the pleated green fabric and the orangey stripes.

Hermione thrust her hand into its abundant neckline and dug out the punched tag with which Madam Maulkin identified dress-ordering parties.

Sure enough, instead of pulling out an orange tag with "Weasley" scrawled on it, she ended up with a prissy pale green tag with the words Greengrass/Malfoy neatly inked.

"I knew it." She fumed. "She never messes up an order in all the hundred or so years she's been in business and the first one she botches up has to be MY WEDDING DAY! I will KILL her for giving my dress to Astoria Malfoy, I spend WEEKS trying to find one and I WILL NOT SPEND MY WEDDING DAY IN A _CABBAGE COSTUME!"' _Hermione raised her hand to pull her wand out of the messy knot at the top of her head, but Ron's wrist shot out and caught her hand. "No, wait." He knew she was at her wit's end, and add that to the emotional stress of going to Malfoy Manor and there was going to be talk. He could already see the nosy headlines in Witch Weekly. _War Hero Gate-Crashes Former Death Eater's Wedding_. The last thing he needed to do on his honeymoon was damage control with the Wizarding media.

"I'll go," he said.

"What?"

"Here, I'll go" he stuffed the hideous dress into the garment bag and started searching for his wand. "You stay here, and I'm sure there's other stuff to be done..."

Hermione stared at him as if she wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation. Ron gathered up everything and Apparated after kissing her on the cheek.

* * *

><p>"Molly, darling, please get off of there." Harry was pleading with a four-year-old. The great hero of the Wizarding World was stuck in a shirt with paint and spit all over it, desperately bargaining with his niece, who was floating ten feet above ground, crayons clutched in chubby fists.<p>

"No." It was by far her favorite word.

"Please! Here, look I have four Chocolate Frogs. Four!" He waved them above his head.

"No." And with that, she returned to her previous perch on the edge of the marquee, and contented herself with drawing on the side.

"That's it." Harry put a shield charm below her in case she fell and headed inside. "Percy! I've had it. Your daughter has apparently deemed the present decor inappropriate and has taken it upon herself to solve that problem." It wasn't Percy who heard him, but Hermione did. "Oh, bloody hell." she muttered and ran outside. "Molly! Molly, dear, no-LUCY! Merlin's beard, no...not the flower arrangements, wait, Dominique-PERCY WEASLEY!" A disheveled Percy ran down the stairs, running his fingers through his already messy hair, glasses askew, and shirttails out.

Hermione grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and pulled him out of the doorway. "I want these kids out of here, and I want them to stay out of here until the ceremony. Is that clear? Molly's crayons can be taken away and the last thing I need is for Lucy or Dominique to get indigestion. Do you understand? Good."

Percy nodded furiously and set to work on his task. He was just coaxing Molly down when a floaty cloud of blonde hair drifted past him. Why had his brother invited Luna Lovegood to his wedding?

"Oh, hello, Hermione. Lovely hair color. Congratulations on the proposal. I always knew Ronald would propose."

"Oh, did you? That's wonderful, Luna. I'm really sorry, but I have to get a move on and make sure my dad hasn't shown Mr. Weasley his iPod..."

"No worries." Hermione hurried off into the house, leaving Luna to wonder why exactly all the chairs were meticulously lined. It was very bad feng shui. Very bad feng shui indeed. She set off to fix it.

* * *

><p>Ron raised his fist to knock on the door and dropped it yet again. "Damn it, Weasley, where's that Gryffindor courage?" He raised his hand again, picked up the ugly knocker shaped like two intertwined iron snakes and thwacked it hard against the door.<p>

Immediately, he heard footsteps running across the floor and a young girl of twelve or so opened the door. She was wearing a pale green dress hiked up around her knees to allow maximum movement. She was wearing jeans under the dress and looked like she'd sorely like to be anywhere in the world but here.

"Er, hi." Ron said.

"Aren't you Mr. Weasley?" She said with undisguised curiosity, staring at him unabashedly.

"Yeah, I am." Ron always felt a jolt of pride when people recognized him as something other than "the last Weasley boy" and although Harry told him it would get old soon, he was enjoying it while it lasted. "Would you like an autograph?"

"Yeah, please." she rummaged in an ornate sofa side desk, the kind of furniture that doesn't serve any real purpose besides showing off how much money the owner has, exactly the kind of thing the Malfoys would have. Ron noticed several chocolate frog cards, including several of Hermione's. The girl pulled out a water-damaged notepad and a leaky Muggle pen. Ron took it gingerly.

"Right, so, er, your name?" he asked her, pen poised. Now that he looked at her carefully, he realized she didn't look like a Malfoy at all. She must be from the bride's side. Greengrass, was it?

"Lucia. Lucia Greengrass. I'm the bride's sister. I didn't know you were invited, the dress code is formal after all...but it's all right." She peered around him. "The invitation said to bring a guest, and I'd thought you'd bring Miss Granger...I've really wanted to meet her."

"It's been a real pleasure, Lucia, but I'm getting married to Miss Granger today, and Madam Maulkin has evidently made a mistake with the dresses. We've gotten your sister's dress and I'm here to exchange them."

"Oh, all right then. ASTORIA!" the girl screamed. "YOUR DRESS IS HERE!"

There was silence for a moment. And then, footsteps could be heard, thumping down several flights of stairs. The person really didn't sound too delicate and feminine, and Ron wondered if Malfoy was in his right mind choosing such an unladylike bride.

Speak of the devil.

Draco Malfoy himself came barreling down the stairs and crashed into Ron. They both fell to the floor and all the dresses went flying.

"Malfoy, get the hell off of me!" Ron pushed him off. He looked like some old Victorian duke, with his silver pocketwatch and old-fashioned tuxedo.

"Believe me, Weasley, it's no more pleasuring to me than it is for you." Draco sneered back. "And why have you got Tori's dress?"

"Tori?" Lucia wrinkled her nose. "Since when did you start calling her Tori?"

Draco ignore her and reached for the garment bags on the floor. "Why are you here, crashing my wedding?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "It's not like I wanted to spend my wedding day with you, you know."

They both realized what the other was saying.

"There's no way-"

"-we're getting married-"

"On the same bloody day!"

Draco tilted his head to the side. " I see Granger has rubbed off on you in more ways than one. Nice hair."

"Thanks. Here's, er, Astoria's dresses...could we have ours?"

"Er, yeah, sure."

Draco and Lucia both left the room and a few minutes later, Lucia returned with the correct garment bags.

"Thanks, and nice meeting you." Ron shook Lucia's hand.

* * *

><p>Molly Weasley was very stressed with this wedding. After George, Bill, Percy, and Ginny's, she'd thought she'd seen it all.<p>

Oh, how wrong she was.

The entire marquee had been turned on it's head, with chairs strewn everywhere and the tables pushed in one corner. Luna was draping a very pretty banner of sunflowers around the edges of the marquee and somehow the crayoned pictures that Molly Jr. had drawn vanished.

"Luna, dear, do you mind if Percy and Bill help you fix the marquee?" Mrs. Weasley asked her politely. Luna looked down. "Oh, not at all! The more, the merrier!"

Mrs. Weasley nodded and rushed to send them outside. She passed by Hermione, who was holding a shrieking Victoire.

"I don't want to wear shoes!" Vic screamed. Hermione nodded and pulled out a box of pink patent leather Mary Janes. "But they're so pretty! Look!"

Victoire screamed loudly and flailed around, trying to loosen Hermione's grip on her. "NO!"

Fleur came rushing down the stairs, holding one end of the cake while Audrey held the other. "Ma cherie, listen to Tante Hermione!" she pleaded with the little girl.

Victoire shrieked again, "NO!" and with a tremble, the cake exploded, covering all four females in buttercream frosting.

Fleur stared at the cake and muttered, "Merde." She and Audrey looked at each other before running to find a Muggle Bakery.

Hermione could not take it anymore. She sank to her knees and started to cry, tears leaking down her face. Victoire stared up at her with huge crystal-blue eyes. "Pwease don' cwy." she said, wiping away the tears. "I'll wear the shoes. Pwomise." And she picked them up and slipped them on. Hermione stared at her little niece. This was all she had to do? Cry? Really?

* * *

><p>Audrey rushed back with a beautiful cake. She'd put protective enchantments around it right after buying it at the local Muggle bakery. She set it under the marquee, at the far end.<p>

* * *

><p>Ron ran into his room with all four bajillion of the bags Malfoy gave him. He carefully laid them out and went to call Hermione.<p>

* * *

><p>Harry was frantically searching everywhere for the rings. This was awful. Not only would Ron murder him, but Hermione would resurrect him and kill him again for ruining their wedding. And then, he was sure Ginny and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't spare him either.<p>

Damn.

He nervously tugged at his collar, his fingers brushing the leather mokeskin cord Hagrid had given him for his seventeeth birthday. Wait, mokeskin!

He fumbled with the pouch and reached inside. There was nothing but the two golden rings. He breathed a sigh of relief and replaced them. He could count on celebrating another birthday now.

* * *

><p>3 hours later:<p>

"Quick, the ceremony's starting!" Mrs. Weasley tapped on Hermione's door and opened it softly. Hermione looked absolutely beautiful, with Aunt Muriel's tiara and a long, translucent veil. "Are they ready?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded, with tears in her eyes. Hermione followed her to the back of the house, where Ginny was waiting with Mr. Granger. Hermione hugged Mrs. Weasley and Ginny before taking her father's arm. Mrs. Weasley took her place with Mr. Weasley at the front of the marquee, and Ginny strode up the aisle. Harry looked like he'd been hit in the head by a particularly violent Bludger.

And then, the organ music started. Hermione took her father's arm and they began to walk up the aisle. She saw everyone turn to look at her, but she only had eyes for Ron. Tears were threatening to spill over and she did not want them to, because then the mascara that had been so carefully applied by Fleur would be streaming down her cheeks, making her look like a panda.

And then her father let go of her, and Ron took both her hands in his own, and she saw tears in his eyes too, and then Ron was leaning into her, and kissing her, and she was kissing back, and someone told them to save for tonight, and she suspected it was George, and she could feel herself blushing, and then everyone was clapping and whooping and exchanging money for countless bets.

And then Ron was leading her out on the dance floor, and she was swaying to the music, and she, Hermione Grang-no sorry, _Weasley_, could not have been happier.


End file.
